Sunday, 6 September 2009

The Wind That Shakes The Barley

A favourite spot of mine, a lay by on the old Fofar to Brechin road, just past Aberlemno. On a clear day you can see for miles and miles over the rolling Angus countryside.

As you can see, it wasn't the clearest day yesterday, but it was still bonny. Most of the barley has been harvested in the area, but this farmer was probably caught out by last week's heavy rains.

The following poem was written from the perpesctive of a young Irish rebel whose love was shot by the Brits during the 1798 Irish rebellion and gave it's title to the Ken Loach film.

The Wind That Shakes The Barley

I sat within a valley greenI sat me with my true loveMy sad heart strove to choose betweenThe old love and the new loveThe old for her, the new that madeMe think on Ireland dearlyWhile soft the wind blew down the gladeAnd shook the golden barley

Twas hard the woeful words to frameTo break the ties that bound usBut harder still to bear the shameOf foreign chains around usAnd so I said, "The mountain glenI'll seek at morning earlyAnd join the bold United MenWhile soft winds shake the barley"

I bore her to some mountain streamAnd many's the summer blossomI placed with branches soft and greenAbout her gore-stained bosomI wept and kissed her clay-cold corpseThen rushed o'er vale and valleyMy vengeance on the foe to wreakWhile soft winds shook the barley

But blood for blood without remorseI've taken at Oulart HollowAnd laid my true love's clay-cold corpseWhere I full soon may followAs 'round her grave I wander drearNoon, night and morning earlyWith breaking heart when e'er I hearThe wind that shakes the barley.